


Growing Pains

by SweetlyVague



Series: There You Are: The Series [2]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Idiots in Love, Love, One Shot, Seriously a lot of Smut, Shameless Smut, Smut, Story Canon, Unrequited Love, love sqaure
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-01-13 17:34:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21189773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetlyVague/pseuds/SweetlyVague
Summary: A collection of one-shots taking place during my story There You Are.What do a mercenary, a ghoul mayor and a soldier all have in common? Their struggle to resist the girl out of time.Love blossoming between the worlds most stubborn duo, heartache planting the seeds for others, an angsty rag-tag team and, of course, adventuring.Friendly to folks who haven't read my story and just want some shameless smut, along with some fluff and angst. Even better to those who have been following There You Are and want to see what our favourite team got up to between the posted chapters (and the sheets).Comments keep me alive and motivated! <3**Also accepting prompts!**





	1. Sweet Dreams (Quinn/Mac smut)

**Author's Note:**

> This one-shot takes place between The Morning After and A Very Merry Christmas Special. 
> 
> The line between friends and something more has been blurred for Quinn Hardin and RJ MacCready. How's our favourite merc handling it?

"I can't wait to lay in bed," Quinn huffed while MacCready unlocked their suite at Hotel Rexford, her tired body leaning against the wall heavily. Hancock had given them a job to clear out some raiders getting a little too comfortable just down the block from Goodneighbour and the trip took them much longer than they'd anticipated; there were more raiders than they were expecting and they were armed heavier, too.

He chuckled, pushing the door open, "Yeah, whatever. Must be nice to have a bed, huh?"

The attitude in his voice made the redhead shoot him a look, shoving him into the room playfully, "It's big enough to share, I've told you that a thousand times. I think you just want a reason to bitch."

"Actually," MacCready ushered her towards the bed with a sweeping arm gesture, dropping his heavy rucksack next to his armchair, "I'm a gentleman, Quinn."

With a scoff, Quinn started to remove her leather armour pieces- not without great difficulty. The girl whined, fiddling with a strap on her shoulder. MacCready could see her expression fall into a pout, her full bottom lip protruding out with another overexaggerated wail while she stomped her feet.

He let her struggle for awhile, getting an honest kick out of her mild suffering before he moved in towards her and slapped her hands away from her shoulder, starting to work on the buckle, "You're a mess."

Blinking over her shoulder, he caught a flash of mischief in her eyes and his breath hitched in his throat momentarily.

He'd seen that look before- it was the night they'd returned from The Third Rail after Hancock's huge party. MacCready, fueled by _a lot_ of liquid courage, finally brought himself to do something he'd wanted to for awhile- kiss the infuriatingly stubborn, little redhead. They returned to the party after an interruption from the mayor himself (goddamnit, Hancock) and once they'd stumbled their way back to their room, the duo nearly went a whole lot further. 

_Quinn clutched the front of his undershirt and pulled him to her, their lips back together without hesitation. MacCready ripped his scarf she'd been wearing from her neck and tossed it in the general direction of the armchair. Using his body, he lead back to press her against the wall. There was no tenderness this time, only the clumsiness and impatience of liquor._

By some measure of a miracle, MacCready was able to stop himself while laying on top of her- Quinn breathless and blushing underneath his weight. He'd started to slip his hand down the front of her jeans, but he knew if he hit home there'd be no stopping- he'd have to have her. If she'd ever be insane enough to even kiss him, let alone sleep with him sober, that's when he'd go through it. He didn't want a drunk night to make anything weird between them; she'd barely forgiven him for finding out who he'd been (unwittingly) working for when he'd woken her from that vault. 

The next day, neither of them spoke a word of what had happened between them. Mac was certain she was blackout and didn't remember a damn thing.

"You gonna help me, or what?" Quinn wiggled her shoulder and he blinked out of his thoughts.

"Uh, yeah. Sorry. Didn't realize how tired I was until now," He lied, undoing the buckle and slipping her shoulder pad off of her. Setting it down on the nightstand, he opened his hand and put it on top of her head, mussing her curly hair around. MacCready was rewarded with a sound of pure annoyance and he grinned, heading to his chair and sitting down into it heavily.

He settled low in the chair, pulling his hat down over his eyes-mostly, anyways. MacCready watched Quinn stretch her arms upwards with a yawn, the hem of her shirt riding up enough for him to get a glance at her navel. Climbing into bed, she nestled in close to Dogmeat and started murmuring to him while she ran her fingers through his fur. She loved that damn dog. Seeing her sweet interaction with Dogmeat made him feel something even more than the gorgeous flash of bare skin- which was an uncomfortable occurrence for the mercenary.

MacCready's heavy eyes closed and he sunk down into sleep almost instantly.

"Mac."

Shifting in his chair, MacCready moved to stretch his leg out further and the toe of his boot stopped at something. Lifting his hat up, he was surprised to see Quinn standing there in front of him- his boot had slid into hers.

"For a sniper, you sleep deep," She laughed, "Isn't that a little dangerous? You got a lot of enemies, Mac. I might be one of the only people who actually likes you."

MacCready groaned and sat up in the armchair, "If you liked me so dang much you'd let me sleep."

Quinn moved in closer and grasped the plush arms of his chair with her slender fingers, leaning down towards him, "I could do something better to show that I like you."

Having recoiled against the back of his chair, he could feel the beat of his heart pick up immediately. Quinn's face was inches from his and that twinkle was back in her eyes, searching his, "What do you say, Mac?"

"I- uh.." Heat spread through his cheeks, and worse, down his abdomen and between his legs. What the hell was she doing?

Oh God.

Quinn lowered herself down on to her knees in front of him, his inner thighs pressed against the sides of her arms.

Oh God.

Her eyes remained up on his, looking into them mischievously while she moved the palm of her right hand over the growing bulge between his legs. She trailed her fingers over the material, a sharp breath leaving MacCready's lips.

"Come on, Mac," She giggled, the sound like goddamn music, palming his dick through his pants with slow purpose, "We've been both thinking about this for awhile now."

It wasn't until she'd unbuttoned and unzipped his pants that he'd manage to snap out of his stupor. Quinn was giggling again, the blush forming on her cheeks and over her nose somehow both endearing and incredibly sexy all at once. The girl was an anomaly. She made him want to hug her and keep her safe, and on the other hand, do _very_ unspeakable things to. Like bending her over something and fucking the shit out of her.

"Uhn.." The thought made him groan, the sound escalating while Quinn opened up his pants and removed his thick manhood from the opening of his boxers. At the sight of his cock, she tucked her lower lip between her teeth and hummed in appreciation.

Smiling devilishly, she wrapped her hand around the base of his length and leaned in. Her plump lips parted and her tongue moved out to run up against his sensitive flesh. She gave him a few thorough licks before she slid her hand upwards and brushed her thumb against his tip, his precum lubricating her digit. 

"Fuuu..." He couldn't stop himself from squirming beneath her touch, spiraling down into a fog of lust and need.

Quinn put her thumb in her mouth and gently sucked the fluid from it. He couldn't even react to what he'd witnessed before his cock replaced her thumb, her hot mouth wrapped around him, "Ohhh shit.."

She moved lower and lower until her lips met his base, his eyes barely believing what he was seeing. This beautiful woman took every inch of him on, the vibrations of her moan wreaking havoc on his mind and the last of his ability to hold himself back. MacCready looked down at her working on him with an expert mouth and her buried his hand into her thick red hair- doing this caused her to mumble in approval and he smirked, using her handful of hair to guide her.

"I knew that mouth was capable of more than getting on my goddamn nerves," Quinn's eyes looked up at him while she continued to suck his dick, and her gaze told him she'd have probably laughed if not for a certain blockage.  


MacCready wouldn't last long at this rate and he pulled her back, his cock leaving her mouth with an enticing pop. She licked her lips and he watched in awe as saliva trail down from the corner of her parted lips and down her chin.

Sitting up, he grabbed her hips and squeezed them, his hands rubbing down along her outer thighs, "Take those pants off, angel."

Quinn stepped back and untied her boots, kicking out of them. She opened up her jeans and used her index fingers in her belt loops to slowly, agonizingly so, move her jeans down her hips. The sight of the black underwear she wore made his dick twitch, feeling as if he waited a lifetime for her to get those damn pants off.

"C'mere.." MacCready beckoned her over and she straddled his lap- he could feel the heat of her core against him.

_Fucking hell, she's going to kill me._

Quinn pressed her chest against his, her breathing heavy with anticipation, and he positioned himself against her pussy with her panties pushed to the side to allow him access to her. With his hand in her hair again, he pulled her into a kissing while he gripped her hip and pulled her down- impaling her with the entirety of his painfully hard cock in a single motion. She would have shouted out if she could, but they were locked in a deep kiss and the sound was lost against his lips.

MacCready's hand tightened on her hip, the pleasure of her sopping wet pussy a sensation he wouldn't have been able to put into words. Refusing to break the kiss, he parted her lips with his tongue and started to buck upwards into her, her weight coming down in time with his motions. 

He almost couldn't believe it- he was fucking Quinn. He'd thought about it more than he'd care to admit, though he never got his hopes up for it actually happening. MacCready didn't think he'd have a chance in hell to nab a girl like her. Quinn was the kind of beautiful you'd only find prewar- long hair, perfect teeth that gave her a smile that'd disarm anyone, and that waist to hip ratio _had_ had to have been something from the past. Frankly, the girl out of time was way out of the league of anyone wandering the wastes.

With a sharp squeal, Quinn pulled away from his kiss and tilted her head back- she was enjoying the ride. Grabbing his shoulders, she braced herself and rocked her hips with him, pulling MacCready down into whole new depths within her, "M-Mac..!"

"Yes, angel?" He was grunting with effort, the option of slowing down simply not possible; he was a man possessed. 

Quinn's only reply was the repetition of his name over and over again, the sound sharper and more desperate each time. He pressed back harder into the chair, giving her a good once over while she rode him urgently; this was a sight he'd never want to forget. Running his tongue over his thumb, he slipped under the front of her panties and started circling her clit.

With that, she tightened up and shouted in ecstasy, her body leaning forward so she could rest her forehead against his shoulder, "I'm..!"

MacCready chuckled breathlessly, grasping her ass and slamming her against him, his arm pressed between them while he continued his work on her clit. Shuddering, Quinn let out a shrill whine that fell apart into pleasured babbling, her orgasm tearing through her like a goddamn bolt of lightening.

The mercenary couldn't hold back anymore, his eyes screwing shut as he toppled into the abyss with her- his legs stiffening under her. His hips shook while he came inside of her, his hand on her ass not allowing her to stop thrusting against him. As long as he was hard, he'd keep fucking her.

He couldn't stop.

"F-fuck.. Qu-..!

"Quinn!" MacCready shouted, shooting upright in his chair quick enough to send his hat flying forward off his head. He was breathing heavily, nails digging against the arm of the armchair he'd been sleeping in.

It was relatively dark, but he could see his companion sit upright from her spot on the bed across the room, hand going for the gun she kept by her, "Wh-what?!"

He'd already slumped back and pretended he was asleep, "waking with a start", "What?!"

Quinn was sitting there, scratching at the back of her head and looking around sleepily, "I.. thought I heard something. It felt like something woke me up."

"Nightmare?" MacCready adjusted in his seat, trying his damnedest not to sound as if he'd run a marathon.

"Huh.. Maybe." With that, she tipped backwards and returned to laying on the bed, turning over and murmuring a goodnight.

MacCready sat there in the dark, his heart racing and his mouth dry. He'd thought a lot of things about Quinn, but he'd never had a dream quite like that before. Finding his breath again, he shifted again in his chair, looking at his lap.

_..A wet dream, RJ? Really? Are you 10?_

He groaned underneath his breath, slouching in defeat.


	2. Vulnerable (Quinn/Mac fluff)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one-shot takes place between the There You Are chapters The Memory Den and Winlock and Barnes.
> 
> Quinn went to the Memory Den and found answers, but not the ones she was hoping for. Watching her grieve isn't a cake walk for MacCready.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy some freshly whipped fluff.
> 
> If you have any prompts you'd like to see written about, comment them!

MacCready stood outside of Hotel Rexford looking uncharacteristically hesitant. 

It had been two weeks since Quinn went to The Memory Den and retrieved bits and pieces of her previous life, which meant it had been two weeks of Quinn pretending she had herself together. She thought she'd been able to hide that she was still heavily affected by what happened that day, crying as quietly as she could until she fell asleep, showing up after a short absence with her eyes still mildly red from her tears. Flashing that big smile of hers, she likely assumed she had him duped.

_Quinn sighed, "I... I saw things. I heard things. It was the smallest glimpses in to my life but I don't... I still don't remember any of it. I saw them but I felt no connection. I don't remember living any of those moments. I don't remember the people, I don't remember the voices."_

He'd watched her break in front of him and it hurt to see- he wasn't about to admit it, _like hell he would_, but seeing her cry might have been one of the worst things he'd experienced since his loss of Lucy, and Duncan falling ill. MacCready didn't wear his feelings on his sleeve and the talent was hardly necessary considering little got to him. He was known for being a cold mercenary with an attitude problem and he'd almost successfully fooled himself. 

_Almost._

Then Quinn fell out of that cryo tube and into his life- changing the course of everything he had planned. All he wanted was to complete his mission, get the rest of his caps and finally figure out a way to get to the cure for his son. Nothing was predictable after her arrival, not even his own damn self. It was confusing and infuriating because he was constantly breaking his own rules and feeling things he'd buried and left for dead. 

Like the wildcard she'd become, Quinn challenged his empty chest and the jackass didn't even have to try. Somewhere along the line she'd stopped being a nuisance and became someone he liked having around. The loneliness that'd consumed his life was tenfold when she wasn't there with him- which was a rarity; they were becoming thick as thieves. Don't make the mistake of assuming he _needed_ her around, he just _liked_ it. Yeah, _thank you very much._

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MacCready didn't know if he was ready to go up to the suite- he didn't want to see her crying, or worse, pretending she wasn't. The redhead was a decent actor, but being a sharpshooter had made him extremely perceptive. Quinn wasn't keen on talking about that day so he respected it and pretended he didn't catch on to it.

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It wasn't easy with his need to comfort her becoming nearly impossible to deny. Quinn was generally vibrant, with a laugh and smile that caught the attention of anyone in her presence. She woke up in hell and still found it in herself to be an endless source of sarcasm, humour and sass. Seeing her unhappy was unnatural, like a Molerat juggling or some shit.

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_Quinn couldn't hold it together anymore and she started to sob, her shoulders slumping in defeat, "I was somebody. I was somebody and I don't think I'll ever know who. I'm nobody now, Mac'."_

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MacCready wanted her to be happy.

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He mumbled a pep talk to himself and made his way to face the girl out of time.

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Before he opened the door to their suite on the second floor, MacCready could already hear Quinn through the door. She was crying. And not crying silent tears- she was sobbing, the sound mournful. An audible peek into immeasurable emotional pain.

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Fumbling with the keys, he unlocked the door and ran into the room, "Quinn! Are you okay?"

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He didn't see her at first; she was tucked in between the bed and the dresser. Her back was pressed against the wall, her arms wrapped around her knees. With her head hanging down, her red locks obscured her face. MacCready rushed to her and knelt down in front of her, "Quinn. Hey, talk to me."

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There was an effort to quell her crying, but it was a battle she couldn't win this time around. She looked up from her knees and he felt his chest ache. Quinn looked shattered.

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"Quinn.. Come here," MacCready extended a hand towards her, beckoning her to him.

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Tucking her face back down, she gave her head a shake and continued to cry. The girl was already small, maybe 5'3" at the most, and she shrunk in further. She looked so small and so helpless. Part of MacCready wanted to snap at her and tell her to listen to him. He was nervous he was about to, instead surprising himself and putting a hand against her calf, "Quinn, please. Let me help you."

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"No!" She shot up to her feet and avoided looking at him, rushing to the door, "Just leave me alone."

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The door slammed shut behind her fleeing form and MacCready sighed heavily. Stubborn, as usual He wanted to follow after, yet something gave him the feeling it wasn't a good idea. She needed space to grieve and the best he could do was be there when she came back.

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He grabbed a stack of comics and sat on the bed, making himself comfortable for his wait. Minutes passed, hours passed and somewhere along the way MacCready dozed off.

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Their room was dark when the creak of the door woke him up, the unmistakable form of Quinn stepping into the room. MacCready closed his eyes again- not wanting to scare her off. He felt unexpected weight added to the bed as Quinn climbed on, her body settling next to his. Still pretending to be asleep, he let her make herself comfortable. He could hear her sniffling quietly, curling up towards him. She moved in as close as she could, her motions cautious- MacCready had a feeling she didn't want him to know she was there.

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He waited for the deep, rhythmic breathing as a sign that she fell asleep and he dropped the charade. Laying on his side facing her, he opened her eyes and waited for them to adjust to the dark. Quinn looked peaceful, her hands clasped together and pressed against her chest, her chin tucked low towards her knuckles. 

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As carefully as she'd been while coming to bed, MacCready brushed stray strands of her curly hair away from her face. Quinn was the most irritating woman he'd ever met and she drove him nuts and yet..

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_And yet..._

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"And yet" was a question to be answered another day because MacCready fell back asleep to the sound of Quinn's breathing, sinking down into a comfortable and dreamless place next to her.

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When he'd woken up to the light of early morning, Quinn was sitting on the armchair with her nose in a tattered prewar book. The creak of the ancient springs brought her attention to him and she gave him a true smile- the one that _most definitely_ didn't make his heart pick up speed, "Morning, Mac."

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MacCready nodded, stifling a yawn, "Mornin'. How'd you sleep?"

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"Not terrible, the armchair isn't so bad for sleep," She closed her book and tossed it gently on to the coffee table, "I came home and you had the bed hogged, so I took the chair."

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_Liar, liar, pants on fire.._

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Chuckling sleepily, Mac took a brief moment to take her in. All traces of her crying were gone, eyes luminous and filled with mirth, her blazing red hair pulled back into a ponytail. Quinn had his duster draped over her lap, tucked in and looking so damn cute. Her fingers pulled at the buttons like they were his heartstrings, "My bad."

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_I'm in deep trouble._

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	3. Getting Acquainted (Quinn/Mac smut)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just puuuuuuuure filth for ya'll.
> 
> Takes place a few days after the chapter Unrestrained. Quinn and Mac can't keep their damn mitts to themselves.

MacCready blew out a shaking breath, his hands cupping the back of his own head and tugging at his disheveled hair in a feeble attempt to relieve the tension growing in his stomach and tickling up his spine. He had a beautiful head of red hair between his legs and a restless, plump-lipped mouth around his cock. Quinn's movements were slow and deliberate, the way her tongue flattened against his arousal and slipped up to explore each inch turning his thoughts into nothing but pure filth. The things he'd do to her when he could...

A giggle turned his attention downwards and Quinn was looking up at him with shining, playful eyes- the same damn look that got his heart racing in the first place. He didn't know when he'd moved, but his hand was was closed around her shoulder and she tsk'ed at him, "Uh-uh, hotshot. Hands to yourself."

"Are you _trying_ to kill me?" He pushed out a sharp breath; Quinn's reply simply returning to her task at hand, "F-fuck.. okay, that answers that."

Hooking his thumbs into the pockets of his pants, MacCready leaned his head back and enjoyed every movement her mouth had to offer, his back pressed to the wall Quinn pushed him against in their Hotel Rexford suite. He had to admit, while he always had a thing for holding power over his lovers, being at Quinn's mercy felt good.

_Too good._

"Christ Quinn, fuck," He groaned out a string of obscenities, his hands tightening into fists around the material of his jeans, "I'm gonna cum if you keep this u-"

And then there were no words, not intelligible ones anyway; his orgasm shot through him, the pleasure radiating up his back and through his arms and legs. It took everything in him not to grab her by those curls, his teeth clenching together while she put him to the test and continued to bob her head. He breathed her name out heavily, jettisoning wave after wave of cum down her throat. To his amazement, Quinn had his whole twitching cock in her mouth, her throat closing around the last of his length as she swallowed every last drop.

It wasn't until his knees were threatening to collapse under him that she pulled back, leaving him to recover with a wicked smile on her painfully tempting lips. Quinn rose to her feet and leaned against him, kissing the portions of his chest exposed by the barely buttoned up shirt he was wearing, "And how was that, hm?"

MacCready let his pants fall to his ankles, stepping out of them and kicking them to the side. The fire he felt low in his stomach kept burning and he grabbed her under her chin, showing her a devious smirk, "I'll be sure to let you know when we're finished, angel."

He wasn't done with her- not by a long shot. MacCready's cock was tucked against her stomach, hard and ready for round two. It'd been three days since they both finally gave in to the inescapable tension between them (nearly breaking their desk in the process) and they'd been making up for lost time since. They were both only twenty-one, but he was still surprised they'd both kept up with the other, barely taking breaks to eat and sleep. MacCready needed to have her and, frankly, he had no plans to stop.

Psycho. Jet. Med-X. Name any chem and they couldn't hold a candle to Quinn and how badly he craved her.

Kissing her hard on the lips, he then pushed her back and watched her fall down onto the bed, the cropped tshirt riding up and giving him a fantastic few of _just_ under her breasts, "Take those shorts off for me, okay?"

Quinn looked up at him with big eyes, a dusting of pink growing on her cheeks. She nodded up at him, rolling the shorts down leisurely and doing her best to hide a smile. MacCready shook his head, but he let her have her fun; he was focused on watching the material of her shorts stretch over her hips. He was certain he'd never get over the way her body curved- breasts a delicious handful, her waist petite and leading to an ass that turned heads all across the Commonwealth. During one of the first days he'd known her, she bent over to dig through a discarded box and the blood rushed south so fast he was shocked he didn't pass out. Her vault suit had left little to the imagination- possibly the only thing he could salute Vaut-Tec for.

"Good god, girl.." MacCready kissed the bottom of her foot as she wiggled it upwards, the shorts hanging from her calf. He pulled them off and tossed them aside, his dick aching just at the sight of her. She laid there with her barely covered tits, arms resting above her head and her legs open enough to tease him.

He lowered to his knees and grabbed her hips, eliciting a giggle from her, then pulling her across the mattress and bringing her waiting core to his mouth. Quinn's giggle turned into a whimper and he could feel her thighs tense over his shoulders, her hands quick to find the back of his head. Looking up at her, he flicked her sensitive bud with his tongue, "Uh-uh, angel. Hands to yourself."

Quinn's mouth fell open in protest, then closing it into a pout he wanted to devour. Lowering her hands and using them to prop herself up, she watched and waited for him to continue, "Such an ass."

Again, as paypack he mimicked her, not bothering to answer with words and getting to work with his mouth. He had her whining in no time and she dug her heels against his back, pushing him against her slick wetness. Opening his mouth wider, her sucked at her folds and explored every inch of her with his tongue. Quinn's hip jerked in surprise as he slipped two fingers into her and rubbed the pads of them upwards. He felt the most sensitive spot she had and she yelped, his cock responding to the sound with a twitch. Burying himself into her couldn't come fast enough.

_Speaking of coming._

Giving her clit one last bit of attention, he straightened up and took hold of her hip with his left hand. Her breathing intensified; she knew what he was about to do- he'd done it to her the night before and she damn near blacked out, "C'mere, angel."

Quinn scooted up so she sat on the edge of the bed, her thighs open against his outer biceps. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he could have sworn he could hear her heart beating as he kissed along her collar bone. Kneading the softness of her hips, MacCready's fingers inside her moved in a "come here" motion and he leaned back only enough to watch her while he unraveled her.

She couldn't do much more than whisper, her eyebrows furrowed at the pleasure that coursed through her. His ministrations only quickened in pace, Quinn's hips bucking for a moment while she covered her hand with her mouth, containing a shout. MacCready grabbed her hand and lowered it to his mouth, kissing her finger tips, "I wanna hear you."

MacCready's deft fingers were great for three things: pulling triggers, picking pockets and... well. Quinn was panting and clinging to him for dear life while said fingers continued, that cute face of hers scrunched as if she were in deep concentration. He slipped a third finger into and relished the sound she made, the additional pressure on her g-spot bringing her close to home. Her hot, slick walls closing in on his digits were telling, and if it weren't, her keening definitely was.

He tilted his head up to get another good look at her and he couldn't believe his luck. Sure, after the loss of his wife, MacCready had countless nights with women. There was something about his reputation and his attitude that the ladies of the Commonwealth loved and bedding them wasn't difficult for him. Quinn was the first since Lucy who didn't get starry eyed over him and the first since Lucy who called him on his shit without hesitation. More importantly, she was the first since Lucy he didn't just want to fuck to ease the pain for the night- he cared about her. And then somehow, he managed the fortune of the girl out of time feeling the same way.

Her screaming in absolute and complete pleasure was decidedly a plus, "Are you gonna come for me?"

Quinn nodded, her hands in his hair and holding on for dear life. She was there on the edge and the mercenary was ready to make her fall to _pieces_, "Good girl."

Allowing herself to lay back on the mattress, Quinn couldn't hold back anymore and she strung together a mix of obscenities that had MacCready laughing. His fingers continued and he rose from his kneel and climbed on top of her shaking form. Her eyes were watering and she wiggled underneath him as the pleasure was becoming too much for her, Quinn giggling involuntarily, "Stopstop, RJ!"

He accepted her request and smiled down at her in her afterglow, her cheeks red and hair a touch wilder than usual. Quinn smiled back, letting out a "phew" while she attempted to find her breath again, her chest heaving in effort. Bearing down on her, his arousal slid against her dripping wet pussy and she smiled wider, "Are you trying to kill _me_?"

MacCready planted kisses across her collarbone and up along her neck, taking time to savour the wet saltiness covering her tanned skin. A chuckle vibrated his throat and he kissed under her ear, "Hmmm, there are worse ways to die."

Again, Quinn giggled and turned her head to plant butterfly kisses along his stubbled jaw. He loved the way she sounded when she was laughing, and how her eyes got an iota brighter. Better yet, the way she smiled when she laughed- those beautiful lips of hers curving up into the best thing he'd seen in years. MacCready turned his head and caught her mouth with his own, lifting her knee and holding it to his hip as he finally sunk himself into her. They both exhaled when their bodies became one and Quinn nibbled on his bottom lip. 

To say she felt good was an understatement. She made him feel like he'd died and stood at the pearly gates- not that he had any hope of ever making it there. MacCready didn't know much about religion, but he had a feeling killing for money didn't put you on the big guys' good list. It didn't matter to the mercenary, anyways, he had a little slice of nirvana under him.

Gripping the side of her knee, he kept it pushed to his hip and started to move himself in and out of her- his pace slow, yet powerful when he'd thrust back into her. Quinn would squeak with each plunge, her nails digging into his shoulder- causing the best kind of pain radiating from the half moons cut into his skin. MacCready slipped an arm under her waist and held her body firm against himself, unable to contain his groans and not giving a single shit about it. The whole floor could hear how good she felt for all he cared; his mind was clouded and nothing mattered at that moment except for her.

"Fuck, you feel great," Shifting her raised knee to curl over his shoulder, he plunged deeper into Quinn and her back arched from the mattress, "Come for me again, angel."

The redhead started to beg for him to fuck her harder and he obliged, tossing the last of his restraint away and having her just the way he wanted. The room filled with the sound of them crashing together and Quinn tucked her face against the crook of his neck, sobbing louder and louder while she made her way to the finish line. MacCready slid his arm down further and took a handful of her ass, tilting her hips upward.

_Bingo._

"Pleasepleaseplease!" He could feel tears spilling from her eyes while she desperately nuzzled his neck, her lower body bucking wildly with the heat flashing through her. She was coming and she was coming hard, her pussy closing around his cock like a vice. 

"Fuck!" MacCready's face pressed against the mattress and was lost among a sea of her strikingly red locks. Her hair smelled strongly of her- spicy, warm, intoxicating and otherwise indescribable. He'd know that scent anywhere. A handful of erratic thrusts and he was finished, pulling out of her and grasping his length in a tight fist. Grunting through his clenched teeth, he milked himself on to her stomach in hot waves.

MacCready collapsed on to her and they took a few minutes to come back down to earth, the room quiet and comfortable. He shifted to lay next to Quinn, using his arm around her to curl her against his side, "I think I'm ready to give you my review, short stuff."

She tilted her head up and looked at him curiously, "Oh? So, how was it?"

He drummed his fingers down her abdomen and feigned thinking about his answer. A grin flashed on his face and he rolled back on top of her, "Actually. On second thought: I think I need more data."

Quinn squealed in surprise, laughing that sweet laugh of hers while his hand tucked between her legs, "RJ MacCready!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, I just need 100% smutty goodness. 
> 
> I think this may be my best sex scene, yet. *eyebrow waggle*
> 
> Make sure you comment! I love hearing all your thoughts- good or bad!


	4. The Blonde and The Redhead (Quinn/Hancock, Hancock/OC smut)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hancock enjoys the perks of being the mayor and lays eyes on the girl out of time for the first time.
> 
> This takes place a week after the chapter The Memory Den.

Hancock ran a course tongue over his lips, closing his hands tighter on the hips he jack hammered into and relishing in the helpless, crazed moans of his current lover. She was some pretty little blonde thing he came across down at The Third Rail- a rare new face around town and ripe for the picking.

The mayor of Goodneighbour wasn't a predator, of course not. He preferred to be called an _opportunist_.

Blondie walked through the town's gates less than five hours ago and she spent three of them under Hancock. Sometimes over. You know how it is.

Watching his thick, ridged cock piston in and out of her had him on cloud nine- her glistening folds stretching wonderfully to accommodate him. He massaged his hands up her back and watched the way her turned face would react to his thrusts, her generous mouth hanging open to spill out her shrill praise. Hancock's grip focused on her shoulders, fucking the face down woman with aggressive thrusts that rattled her entire body.

Hancock's limit was approaching, Blondie's pussy taking him higher and higher. Nothing could shake him out of that moment, the one where you're left breathless and awaiting the fall off the ledge into something divine, that was until..

_Now who do we have here?_

He'd been pounding Blondie into oblivion with a view of the street below when he slowed his thrusts to focus on what he was watching below. His old pal MacCready came meandering down the path leading next to the State House and he looked the way the mercenary generally did- hungover and recovering from one scuffle or another. Hancock noticed he _did_ look less cranky than usual, his trademark scowl turned up into a smirk.

While the ghoul loved his buddy and all, that handsome devil, he wasn't what was so eye-catching. It was the redhead with him.

"You're a tease..," Blondie murmured beneath him, wiggling her ass and pushing against his slowed hips, "Fuck me harder."

Without tearing his attention away from the scene below, Hancock slapped her on her rear and laughed gruffly, "Patience is a virtue, princess.. It's a marathon, not a race- and all that jazz."

She rolled her hips and mewled something seductively, but he was long gone and assessing the mystery girl hanging with MacCready. The first thing he'd noticed was her red hair; it wasn't a hue he'd seen around the Commonweath. It was bright and entirely unnatural- like the red of a Nuka Cola label. Secondly, it was long, something uncommon in the wasteland. The girl had to have had enough hair for several folk, her unruly curls hanging close to her lower back.

_Damn, ain't that somethin._

A shiver crawled its way up his spine and he groaned, hips hips moving erratically for a handful of pumps, "Ready for the finale, sweetheart?"

"Uh huh.. uh huh," Blondie was whining and shaking on her knees, letting out a squeak of surprise as Hancock flipped her over.

Gripping her dainty shoulders once again, he drove into her mercilessly until she was screaming his name, her legs wrapping around his waist and bucking along with his motions. Hancock leaned in and growled against her neck, his orgasm coming up quick, "Where do you want it, babydoll?"

"All over me, cum all over me!" Hancock couldn't help but grin at that; he loved himself a woman willing to get nasty- real nasty. Pulling out of her in the nick of time, he pulled at his cock with a firm hand, unloading ribbons of white warmth against her open mouth, her beautiful tits and down along her stomach.

It was good to be king.

Hancock saw Blondie out while still buttoning up his ruffled shirt, placing his hat on his head and winking at his right hand lady, Fahrenheit, who stood posted on guard by the double doors. She rolled her eyes at him, then at his latest conquest bounding down the spiral staircase, "How do you get _anything_ done?"

"Oh, sister, I get plenty done," He grinned in satisfaction at her reaction- another eye roll and a groan, "Do you mind grabbing MacCready for me? He's got a new friend I'd love to meet."

Twenty minutes later, Fahrenheit pushed open the double doors to his office and gestured for the mercenary and his companion to enter. Unexpectedly, they had a four legged friend with them, as well. Hancock was sitting on the edge of his desk, a cigarette hanging from his lips, "Would you look who it is. How long you been in town without coming to say hi, Mac? You're hurting my feelings."

MacCready laughed and came in for their usual handshake and hug, "Sorry, man. I've been here for a week or so, believe it or not. My hands have been full."

He looked over his shoulder to the mysterious redhead, and if either of them said anything, the mayor didn't hear it. Love at first sight wasn't an idea he'd ever entertain, but infatuation? Lust? A barely contained rager at first sight? Looking at her, he was certainly a believer.

The girl was small, maybe 5'4" at the most and she was alllllll curves. Deliciously round hips were contained in a pair of worn blue jeans, the white t-shirt she wore hiding a lot, although where the material pulled and where it hung told him she had a small waist hidden under there, and a decent rack.

"Uh huh- finally coming up for air, huh?" He joked, exhaling a slow cloud of smoke, his gaze still on the girl.

"Oh, no _no_-" MacCready started hastily and Hancock watched the girls tanned cheeks change to pink.

_Wow. A cutie._

Maybe cute wasn't the right description. He was torn between gorgeous and cute- could she be both? Her eyebrows were darker than her hair and had an arch to them, the kind that made a woman's gaze look sharp. She had big, almond shaped eyes behind her eyelashes, her irises a dark brown. A button nose he desperately felt the need to poke sat above the most delightful mouth he'd ever seen. Plump, pouty and sultry.

_Yeesh. Where the hell did MacCready find this girl?_

In her shyness, she let out a giggle, "No, it's not like-"

MacCready interupted and if Hancock weren't mistaken, there was something a little off about him. The guy didn't blush once in any time he'd seen him, but the ghoul thought he might have detected a hint of one, "Ha. No. She's a friend."

"Hancock, this is Quinn," MacCready motioned to her and then back, "Quinn, Hancock."

Hancock stepped in to greet her and while she stepped in, there was a hint of hesitation on her part. Was that fear? Inwardly, he groaned. No woman could be perfect, right? Girl must have had a dislike for his _kind_, "Never seen a ghoul before or something, lady?"

The new girl, Quinn, blinked up at him several times, "A.. ghoul? What's a ghoul?"

Her eyes flickered over to MacCready like a kid looking to someone for an answer, "Are you.. a ghoul?"

Hancock looked between the two of them, wondering if he looked more or less confused than she did. How could she not know what a ghoul was?

"Yeah, I guess I should have mentioned that," MacCready burst into laughter, giving Hancock a hard pat on the back, "Sorry about that, man. I didn't think I'd have to; she already met Daisy."

MacCready's sarcastic tone had her scowling at him, shooting attitude back without a beat, "You didn't tell me Daisy was a ghoul! I didn't say anything about her, that would be _so_ rude!"

Still chuckling, MacCready shrugged while wearing that shit-eating grin, "Okay, okay. You're right. Those things that kicked our asses were ghouls, too."

"I also didn't think to ask; I was too busy picking your ass up from the concrete, Mac," Quinn spoke with sass that warmed Hancock's heart- this chick was awesome.

"Uh huh," MacCready lit a cigarette, giving Quinn another look.

"Anyways," She turned her attention from MacCready, flashing Hancock a smile. That pout of hers turned into what might have been the most charming thing he's ever laid eyes on- a warm smile bright enough to make him smile in return, "I'm really sorry! I didn't mean to seem rude. Promise. I save that for Mac."

_Seriously. Where did he find this gal?_

"I like you, sister. This surly fuck over here needs someone to put him in his place," MacCready grumbled, lowering down on to the couch and smoking in silence while Hancock continued, "But Ghouls are victims of radiation- a hell of a lot of it. You take on tons of rads and you get a handsome mug like mine."

That wasn't the case for Hancock, but that was a story for another day, "Bright side is we're immune to rads and we live a lot longer than the rest of you. Not so bright side is that most of us turn into ferals- those zombies that you were talking about."

"Hm," Quinn tossed the concept around in her head, taking a seat next to MacCready. The dog dug at the shabby rug below his paws before laying down at her feet.

Planting himself down across from them on the other couch, he looked between the two, "Alright, I gotta ask. How the hell don't you know what a ghoul is? Are you a Vaultie?"

Nervousness crossed her features and she looked to MacCready for an answer again. The mercenary inhaled one last pull from his cigarette and then snuffed it out in the ashtray on the coffee table, "It's alright. Hancock's solid."

_This should be interesting._

"I'm um.." She was putting together the words, looking unsure of what say what she needed to, "Mac found me in a Vault. I was in a cryo tube."

Hancock raised a brow in interest, leaning back and continuing his smoke while she spoke, "I'm from before the uhhhh Great War or whatever you call it."

"Shut the fuck up," He couldn't help himself; that was amazing, "No shit?"

MacCready and Quinn shook their heads in unison. There was a sadness that peeked out from behind her eyes, her hands kneading restlessly on her lap. Poor thing dropped into the Commonwealth? Damn.

"Guess a girl like you could only come pre-war," Hancock barely contained a grin when Quinn blushed again, another smile appearing, "I call em like I see em, doll."

They all bantered back and forth, Quinn looking as if she enjoyed listening to the two of them more than speaking herself, looking at each of them with awe over some of their old tales. Time ticked by and before he knew it, the windows of the State House were dark. Mac got to his feet and rolled his shoulders, "We gotta head out- Daisy said she'd have a part fixed for me for closing."

Quinn also stood and she whistled at her dog who got up with a large yawn, "Thanks for not hating me and again- so sorry for being rude. Really!"

Hancock shook his head, chuckling deeply, "Think nothing of it, doll. I'll see you two around- come by in the morning- I might have some jobs."

The mercenary and the girl out of time left through his office doors, walking close enough to one another they could be holding hands. He couldn't hear what they were saying on their way down the stairs, but he knew they were most certainly bickering again.

_Huh. Maybe Mac can move on from Lucy, afterall._

Hancock parked himself back behind his desk, cursing his foul luck of not meeting the girl before MacCready, and without a clue of how much the redhead was going to change everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little smut, a little kinda sorta fluff. Quinn just turns all them heads.


	5. Love in an Elevator (Quinn/Mac smut)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is non-canon!
> 
> Just an alternate look at how things could have gone at Med-Tek- sans Quinn blowing things up.

MacCready stared in disbelief at the red syringe Quinn placed in his hand, taking awhile to form the words he needed, "You.. You did it... holy crap, you actually did it."  
He took the cure, the words "MED-TEK PREVENT" stamped into the metal and stowed it away in his duster pocket, "Quinn... You just gave Duncan a fighting chance to live."

Quinn smiled at the mercenary, feeling the sting of oncoming tears building in her eyes. She'd known MacCready for nearly six months and she was certain he'd never looked the way he did with the cure in his possession. His expression softened and, just like that, he was a convincing twenty-two year old, all those hard wasteland years melting away.

"I'm glad I could help, Mac," Her smile brightened and she put a hand on his sleeve, giving his forearm a squeeze, "Really."

Truer words hadn't been spoken and those building tears ran down her cheeks, her chest tightening. MacCready floored her with his infamous bad attitude, they managed to argue from dusk till dawn about _everything_ and yet, he was the center of her life in the Commonwealth. Those blue eyes were the first thing she saw when she came to in that frozen tube and they were there everyday since. Quinn was certain that MacCready was the sole reason she was still alive in the hell she woke up in and despite their playfully antagonistic friendship- the mercenary was her best friend.

_Being more than friends wouldn't be so-_

Whatever being more than friends would or wouldn't be was knocked out of her as MacCready pulled her towards him, wrapping her up in his arms. He bowed his head against the crook of her neck and she felt one of his hands bury into her thick hair, "Seriously, Quinn. I can't thank you enough. I owe you everything."

Quinn couldn't breathe; they'd never hugged before. The only time they were ever close was in closed quarter combat, or when helping one another after getting wounded on a job. Never a hug. Never.

MacCready's suffocating hold on her probably didn't help, though.

Even so, not an iota of her wanted him to let go. Being tucked in his arms felt good, _so_ good and there wasn't a lot of that to go around in the Commonwealth, "You don't owe me anything, Mac. You've already saved my life like... tons of times. Let's call it even."

A chuckle sent his warm breath across her neck and she shivered, smiling up at him when he pulled back, "Alright, short stuff. Even."

Quinn nodded and took a step back, brushing stray curls away from her face, "Let's get the hell out of here."

With a pat of his pocket that held the cure, MacCready winked at her and motioned towards the doorway. They were home free.

"You know," Quinn leaned next to the elevator that would take them back down to the first floor, prodding at the call button impatiently, "This place was terrifying. And gross. Maybe you _do_ owe me."

Standing across from her, MacCready's lips formed a smirk and his only reply was a nod. They remained silent, gazing at one another with the whir of the ancient, rising elevator growing louder. The duo often enjoyed comfortable silence during their long walks, sitting at the bar, reading comics in their hotel Rexford suite, but this was different. The air between them felt...

_Charged?_

Quinn knew her face was warming, occupying herself with counting the eyelets of her boots. She'd never felt that sort of tension between them, but that's not to say she didn't feel it on her side. It wasn't easy for her living and working alongside someone she'd grown to find as tempting as she found him. MacCready having the audacity to come back to the suite from cleaning himself up shirtless didn't help matters. He had this v-cut, these gorgeous lines coming down from his abs that tucked under the line of his pants, and she wanted to know what they would feel under her fingers.

"Quinn," MacCready's voice interrupted her from her thoughts and she blinked up at him, most certainly not thinking about where those lines lead to.

"Huh?" She laughed uncomfortably, brushing her hair back again- a nervous habit.

"I.. I just wanted to-" Taking a step closer to her, MacCready stopped himself as the elevator sounded and the door split open, "Come on, let's get this show on the road."

Not bothering to put her bag back over her shoulder, Quinn dragged it into the square space and dropped it down next to her feet with an exaggerated sigh, "Coming down from all that, I think I just realized how tired I am."

"I'm gonna get you to Sanctuary. We'll have to hoof it in the dark for a bit, but I'd feel a lot better with you in the dark between here and there, rather than between here and Goodneighbour," MacCready unceremoniously flung his rucksack next to hers, "Once I drop you off, I gotta head down and get the cure to Daisy."

"What?" His words cleared her head of the sleepy fog and she stood up straighter against the elevator wall, "No way. I'll just come to Goodneighbour with you."

MacCready must have known she was going to protest because he barely let her finish her sentence, "Not a chance."

This was how the argument they had the most _always_ started- MacCready would say something along the lines of hinting that she wasn't able to handle herself, she'd fire back and then they were yelling back and forth until one inevitably stormed off.

_We just got the cure. This is huge for him. Shut up._

"Yeah, sure. Fine," Never talented at containing her emotions, Quinn knew her words came out much harsher than she intended and she sighed, watching the door grate shut.

_Stellar job._

The elevator lurched and started it's slow descent down, the rusted gears and old cables seemingly protesting their use. Quinn returned to staring down at her boots, perfectly aware of how childish she probably looked with her arms crossed tightly, her lips pressed in a sullen frown.

"Jesu-!" Her knees half gave out on her with the abrupt halt of the elevator, her hand shooting to grab the railing, "What the fucking fuck was that!?"

Flipping her tresses out of her face furiously, she looked up to find MacCready standing there with his hand on the emergency stop button, "Mac, what the shit?"

His kept his hand where it was, his gaze lowered. MacCready seemed hesitant.

"Mac?" Quinn watched him curiously, and he took a long breath before meeting her eyes.

"Quinn.. I.." MacCready shook his head, an impatient sound catching in his throat. He didn't speak, instead opting to close the distance between them in order to grasp her face between his hands. Pushing Quinn back against the elevator wall hard enough to knock the air out of her, his lips crashed into hers.

People often said that when sudden, crazy things occurred that it was as if time slowed, or even froze. That wasn't the case for Quinn. She was stunned for the briefest moment and rooted on the spot before her instincts kicked it- and they told her to return his advances with vigor. MacCready let his weight rest fully on to her, sandwiching Quinn between himself and the wall. 

_Am I dreaming? I'm dreaming. I've got to be dreaming._

She grabbed the opening of his duster, unable to pull him closer but not wanting him to move. The moment might end, she could wake up or something- and she wasn't ready. His warm tongue rolled over her lower lip and she parted her lips to invite him in with a pleasured sigh. MacCready tasted like smoke and faintly of the peppermint gum he'd chew in an attempt to not burn through his cigarettes. Their bodies were crushed together but she wanted him closer- needed him closer. 

MacCready's lips deserted hers and she was left panting for air, certain she was seeing stars swimming around the corners of her vision. Tremors shook her thighs, her mind working at _maybe_ half speed, at best, "Mac..?"

The question was double sided. Mac, did you seriously kiss me into delirium? Mac, why the hell are your lips not on mine this very second?

"I've spent too much time watching that fu..-fricken pout of yours," His thumb moved across her lower lip, looking down at her mouth with an intensity that shook her legs further, "And not nearly enough time devouring it."

"Could'a made a move sooner," She didn't hold back on the sarcasm, feeling the smirk grow on her face.

MacCready chuckled, putting a hand against the wall next to her head, leaning in with a matching smirk, "You think I couldn't say the same thing about you?"

Quinn watched his lips move, fixated, "You're Mr. Confident Sniper I Do What I Want Get What I Want blah blah.."

"Pfft," She could feel his breath warm her lips while he spoke, her heart picking up pace again, "You're stubborn and _obviously_ didn't read the signs."

"The signs?!" Her index finger prodded at his chest, "The sign where you gave me hell all the time? Or the sign where you called me an idiot- on several occasions? Or the si-"

MacCready rolled his eyes, interrupting her, "Quinn. Shut. Up."

And he was on her again, her words of protest cut prematurely with his ravenous mouth. This time he wasn't holding himself back, allowing his hands to slip down along her back and then under her jacket to grab her waist. His hold wasn't gentle, though it wasn't rough enough to hurt- and Quinn had to admit she liked it.

On the tips of her toes, Quinn took MacCready's bottom lip into her mouth and let her teeth whisper against the sensitive flesh. He groaned in response and the sound traveled down her spine, her hands impatiently grabbing at the shoulders of his duster. Chuckling against her lips, he shrugged the article off and blindly set it near where their packs were.

All of her thoughts were occupied with ideas of what they were doing and the things they _could_ do, her desire trumping the concept of their inopportune location. Moving back only enough to speak, she murmured, "You don't get to rile me up and then leave me at Sanctuary."

Pulling her jacket off zealously, he laughed this gorgeous, deep laugh she'd never heard before. It was sultry, "Oh, angel. I plan to leave you satisfied."

MacCready kissed her pouting lips, trailing down to kiss her cheek and then along her neck. A shaking breath left her, a whimper following as she felt rough digits slip down into the front of the cargo pants she wore. Quinn said a silent prayer, thankful she didn't opt for the skin tight jeans she had. Much more room for... movement.

"Well, hello.." He sounded pleased, his fingers under her underwear and trailing back along her wet curls, "Enjoying yourself?"

Quinn withheld a moan, closing a loose fist that she cuffed his chest with, "You're _such_ an ass."

Murmuring an "mm-hmm", he nibbled and kissed the pulse at her throat, his middle finger drawing circles on her clit. Her breath hitched in her throat, the surge of pleasure nearly knocking her off her feet. The constant go of the Commonwealth and living in a single room with another person didn't leave a lot of room for _alone time_ which made MacCready's hand between her legs earth shattering, "_Ohhh..._"

"Quinn," He spoke low, two fingers pushing into her while he showed her a wolfish grin, "If you keep making those sounds, I'm gonna lose my mind and get right to _fucking_ you."

Quinn bit her bottom lip, his curse rolling down her sternum, her stomach and right between her legs, "MacCready. Such language."

He laughed against her ear and she gasped at pressure he applied to her clit with his thumb, his two fingers beginning a slow and teasing pace, "There's a time and a place, short stuff."

Heat slowly started to build low in her stomach and she closed her eyes. The feeling that it was all a dream hadn't faded, the tingling in the base of her spine sending her down into a dark, pleasurable abyss. If it were a dream- it was the best she ever had. Toes curled in her boots and she tilted her head back to whimper up to the ceiling. She knew she wouldn't last much longer; his deft fingers working her in all the right ways.

"Mac, Mac.." Quinn was practically singing his name, white knuckling the railing her lower back pressed to. The pressure he applied to the fantastically sensitive spot inside of her proved to be her undoing and she saw stars behind her eyes, her near-scream of pleasure filling the small box they stood in. Every fiber of her being went stiff, her nerves on fire.

He slowly, oh so slowly, stopped his hand with a handful of kisses against her temple, "Ride it out, angel."

After recovering, her heartrate falling back down, Quinn opened her eyes and looked up at MacCready with the slightest smile, "Well. That happened."

Tangling a hand in her hair, he pulled her up for another long kiss- and she felt herself ready to melt all over again. For a caustic asshole, MacCready had such soft lips. The 5'3" girl stood on the tips of her toes to return his kiss with passion, her arms wrapping around the mercenary's neck. She felt his free hand rest against her back, kneading down along her spine.

"We have to get going, short stuff." MacCready put together his sentence between kisses, the motions only moderately successful because he was smiling. Actually smiling.

One last kiss was shared between them and then she loosened her arms from around his neck to allow him to step away, "Oh, _great_. Gotta give me a little taste and then leave me to suffer in Sanctuary, huh?"

"You're acting like I'm not gonna suffer at all, in any of this," That smile morphed back into his standard (annoyingly sexy) smirk while he reached back to pull the stop button back out, the elevator groaning back to life, "And I'm not gonna fuck you in an elevator, Quinn. You know.. not for the first time, at least."

MacCready cupped her chin and winked at her, "I'm a gentleman, afterall."

Her already untamable curls were disorderly after their tryst and she started on smoothing them out, "A gentleman who fingers a girl in an elevator? Romantic as hell, Mac. Truly."

The elevator lurched to a halt, the door opening up to the first floor lobby. MacCready finished putting his duster back on, checking the pocket for the cure and grabbing both of their packs. He slung them over his shoulder, shaking his head, "Annnnnnd she's back."

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?" Quinn narrowed her eyes at his back, following behind him with heavy footfalls after snatching her jacket from the floor.

"What's it supposed to mean?" MacCready had dug out a cigarette and placed it between his lips, holding a lighter up to it while he spoke, "It's supposed to mean you're a pain in the ahh- in the butt."

The redhead fired back and the two of them continued this way for much more time than necessary, beginning their walk back to Sanctuary Hills. Bickering came as easily to them as breathing. Still, somewhere along the way, between the lines of their constant fighting grew something neither of them expected.

After all, the old saying goes: the more things change, the more they stay the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could write these two forever. Seriously.


	6. Ghost in the Machine (Quinn/Danse angst)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one-shot takes place right after the chapter Let Loose.
> 
> Danse continues to struggle with his new identity- his affection for Quinn making it hard for him to remember his steadfast belief that he's just a machine.

It was 3:36 am and Danse finally laid himself out on his bed in the Red Rocket truck stop, the pleasant buzz of beer coursing through his system. He supposed it was a literal system- being a synth and all. 

He laughed into the darkness, stretching out his long legs and crossing his arms above his head. The Brotherhood looked down on all usage of alcohol and chems, though Danse had a feeling he was one of the only soldiers who stuck to that rule and the number of reprimands he handed out during his career solidified his theory. Since his time with the Brotherhood came to an end, the former Paladin enjoyed indulging in a few beers now and again, usually drinking them over his workbench during the sweltering hot days. 

The big party at Sanctuary wound down a few hours earlier and after he'd shared a beer and a long conversation with Quinn on the bridge, he returned to his makeshift home at the truck stop and filled a bucket with Gwinnett lagers. He figured he still had more than enough time to enjoy the stars from the metal median barriers- one of the few things left in the Commonwealth that made him feel level. The ground was rarely under his feet since he'd found out the truth about himself.

"A synthetic man," He exhaled, inspecting the palms of his hands closely with his adjusted eyes. The lines were fine, some long enough to cross the entirety of his hand, others intersecting and fading away. His beating heart was strong in his wrist, thoughts of the Institute bouncing around in his inebriated head. 

It was an existence he didn't know how to come to terms with. How do you accept you're not real when you feel the polar opposite? He had thoughts, he had emotions, wants, need- all of it. Knowing that it was only the result of sophisticated programming threw him for a never ending loop. 

Danse could _maybe_ accept most of the painful realism he was given by the Institute, but he had trouble with one aspect. A tiny, red-headed aspect. Quinn was the catalyst for a flurry of thoughts and feelings he didn't know how to deal with. She'd been the reason he bent Brotherhood laws- and he was _not_ one to take the code lightly. He'd grown a need to help her in her fight against the Institute- the urge so strong he'd dropped a mission he was assigned in order to jump into a vertibird and fly to her rescue.

There wasn't a second thought. Barely a first, if he were being honest.

_"Danse! Courser! Please help! Ple-"_

_The radio installed in his power armour helmet sent Quinn's transmission loud and clear, then crackled into silence after Danse heard what was definitely a scream of terror._

_With a flick of a switch, he pinged her location through the radio he'd given her and spoke as calmly as he could, "Copy that. Standby on location, I repeat, standby on location!"_

_"Scribe Hay-" He started to his squad member, but she cut him off with a single word._

_"Go."_

_Nodding his thanks to her, he hurried to the vertibird, "Up in the air- ASAP!"_

_It was only when he was in the air that he had time to feel something he rarely did- fear. Danse was afraid for the girl- he knew she couldn't stand a chance against a Courser. That cut off shriek rang in his head._

Thankfully, after a long battle, they'd defeated the Courser. It was an uncomfortably close fight, and luckily had zero casualties. Quinn was as okay as she could be after a brush with the Institute's finest- left unconscious and bruised. Seeing her there sprawled on the wet concrete was in the running for one of the worst things Danse had ever seen.

Danse closed his eyes, the redhead manifesting there in his mind as she often did. He knew he'd liked her the moment she talked back to him during their first meeting; it amused him to see such fire come from someone so small. Quinn came off as strong and he respected strong individuals. 

_Those big, brown eyes helped, too._

The girl out of time was quite pretty in a unique way. He'd thought it over frequently and came to the conclusion that she appeared to be a diamond in the rough because that's _exactly_ what she was. A prewar girl without the difficult years of the wasteland under her belt- the endless work, the stress of constant danger, the radiation or the brutal sun. There was almost a glow about her, as if she were untouched.

_The Institute could have never prepared me for Quinn's arrival- that was impossible. Does that make my attachment to her... real? How could that be?_

"Hey, Danse?"

_Speak of the devil._

Sitting up, he peered over to where he could make out her silhouette leaning against the doorway, "Quinn? Are you alright?"

There was that laughter of hers, "Yeah, I'm okay. I'm just.. lonely, I guess."

Danse watched her pad across the room, his eyes adjusting further in the darkness to get a better look at her. She was still wearing what he'd seen her in earlier, a tank top and a skirt, her hair no longer worn down but in a high ponytail, "You're always welcome here."

"I know," Quinn offered him a closed-lip smile, lowering herself to sit on the edge of the bed, "I appreciate it."

Danse moved back to sit against the headboard of his bed, patting the spot next to him as an offering, "Come on. Have a seat and we can sober up."

He watched Quinn move, distracted by the strands of hair she had framing her face. A wisp had gotten itself stuck across her bottom lip and it took everything in him not to reach up and brush it away. Feeling his eyes on her, she met his gaze and smiled again- although this one was much more genuine than the last.

"Oh!" Quinn jumped as she sat down on Danse's hand- the one he'd used to direct her to the spot next to him. He'd been a little _too_ distracted to remember he needed to move it.

Mortified, Danse jerked his hand away, glad it was dark in the room to camouflage the shade of crimson his face turned. Inhaling a short breath, he was thankful he could manage to speak evenly, "I apologize."

She made herself comfortable next to him, using her hands to cover her face while she laughed, "No, no. It's okay. Not your fault."

His hand had gotten compressed under the softness of hear rear, his knuckles brushing against the material between her legs before she'd jumped up as if she'd touched hot coals. Danse was feeling light-headed- a side-effect of every ounce of blood he had heading down south in an instant.

"I hope we're drunk enough to live down this embarrassment tomorrow- or even conveniently forget," Quinn was still laughing, tucking her knees against her chest and hiding her face against them, "I'm so sorry I assaulted your hand."

"I'll live, I'm sure," Danse felt himself grinning down at her, wondering for what might have been the thousandth time how that mercenary had the guff to break her heart. He never assumed MacCready was a smart man, but he could comfortably say he didn't think he was _that_ idiotic.

The beers decided that it was the perfect time to think out loud, "What did you see in MacCready?"

"Oh," Quinn looked up from her knees, looking forward into the darkness, "Well.."

_Maybe the Institute isn't all that spectacular, because they made a moron._

"Quinn, I'm sorry. You don't have to answer that," Danse put a hand on her knee, his thumb brushing along her skin.

"No, it's okay," She managed another faint smile, offering him the briefest glance, "I'm actually pretty surprised nobody has asked me that before."

Quinn stretched her legs out and sat back against the wall, "He's not who he seems to be. I mean, not completely, anyways. I know he's got that whole bristly, aloof thing going on- but there's more under that. I guess he just doesn't show that part of him to many people."

"He babysat me from the second I came out of cryo," She continued, "RJ can be a gigantic dickhead. Trust me, I know... but he's good. So good."

Danse nodded along, not entirely surprised; he couldn't imagine Quinn being with someone who wasn't good, "Huh."

Silence fell upon them and it remained that way for a beat or two, until Quinn blurted out, "He left because he loves me." 

Her brown eyes returned to him and she moved her shoulders in the smallest shrug, "RJ was afraid to love me and then lose me- like he lost someone in his past. She died and.. well, he doesn't want to go through it again, I guess. Can't blame him."

_I can, though._

Quinn's voice was confident, but it was betrayed by her eyes; they were shimmering with tears. Danse frowned, watching the tears build and fall, "Quinn."

"Anyways!" She blinked them away and smiled brightly, erasing the sorrow from her features in the blink of an eye, "Enough about that. How about you, Danse? Got a love story to tell me?"

Her question blindsided him and he sputtered an attempt to speak. Romance, love and all that weren't much of an option in Danse's life. The Brotherhood engulfed his days, and before that it was hard to think of much more than survival in the Capital Wasteland. There'd been rendezvous, sure, he was only.. well, built to be human, but there were no love interests from his past to speak of, "Sorry, Quinn."

She swiveled to face him, crossing her legs, "Oh, come on! You're telling me you've got nothing?"

"With all of _this_, you expect me to believe that?" Speaking while motioning her hands up and down from his head to his toes, she was shaking her head, "Nuh uh. No way."

"Not sure what I can tell you," Danse was laughing, scratching at the back of his head with a large hand, "I've been with the Brotherhood since I was a teenager."

_Or so I've been programmed to believe.. Oh, whatever. Not now._

The way Quinn looked at him with an over-the-top scrutinizing look made him laugh again, her full pout pressed into a straight line. What an oddity she was- the girl with the heart of gold and resolve made of steel. He couldn't begin to understand how she kept her chin up with the weight of the world on her shoulders and, yet, here she was radiating something Danse couldn't describe. It was something akin to warmth.

"I'll never understand you, Danse," Quinn mirrored his tangent, tilting her head and gazing at him thoughtfully, "That sort of discipline and unyielding commitment.. I have too many issues with authority to touch any of that. I'm a "do what I want" kinda gal."

_No kidding._

"I've noticed," Danse chuckled, leaning his head back against the wall, "There's no harm in that; your intentions are good. Baffling, but good."

"I try," The tired redhead returned to her spot next to him, the warmth of her thigh against his, her head tilting to rest on his arm. 

While she faded away into sleep, Danse thought about the ferociousness in which she snapped at him for his initial meeting with Hancock. The memories played to the best of his recollection, falling on to the moment she burst into tears trying to save him from himself. He'd been at a point where he wanted to be left to his fate after finding out he was a synth and she wouldn't have _any_ of it. Quinn risked her life when the fire returned in the face of Elder Maxon, and those tears weren't even dry.

No, she most certainly didn't try. 

She didn't have to. 

Folded up inside of her was a cocktail of impulsiveness, kindness, and this unshakable ability to stand up for what she thought was right- no matter who, or what, faced her.

Quinn was a tornado- a force of nature that nobody could control, predict or stop. 

Closing his eyes for the final time that night, Danse followed Quinn down into the depths of sleep- well aware that he didn't mind if he got swept up in her whirlwind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm having so much fun with these one-shots. ^_^
> 
> Still working on my main story- just had a lot of planning to do for it!


	7. Bar Brawl (Quinn/Mac fluff)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one-shot takes place between the chapters Hawthorne and Trial by Fire.
> 
> Quinn deals with a creep. The creep, in turn, has to deal with MacCready.

Quinn faced MacCready on the stool she sat on, the index finger of her left hand trailing around the highball glass filled with Nuka Cola Quantum and vodka, "It really doesn't bother you?"

He nodded while having a taste of his rye and Nuka, "Really."

"You don't want to, like... correct people's idea that you're a dirty, good-for-nothing scoundrel?"

"Why would I? They're not exactly wrong," He chuckled into his glass, "Besides, there's no point giving a shhh- heck about what random people think of me. Who cares?"

"Well," Her petite shoulder rose in a small shrug, falling silent to take a few swigs of her exceedingly sweet drink, "I care!"

MacCready looked over at her with a raised brow, those striking blue eyes of his shining with interest, "You care about what people think of me? Shouldn't you be more worried about what they think of you?"

"I don't care what people think of me- I care what people think about people who I.. care about..?" Quinn involuntarily giggled at her terrible wording, her phrase lifting into a the sound of a question to silently ask if what she said made any sense. 

"That's weird-oh, hey, Vadim! Another round when you got a sec!"

"It's not weird! Are you saying that you wouldn't want to lay into someone for saying something totally incorrect about a friend?" She stuck her bottom lip out in a mock pout, "What if someone said something about me?"

MacCready rolled his eyes, very much already exasperated, "Come on! Don't turn this around on me. I'm not drunk enough."

Her eyes were cut into a glare at him, though her features softened in the blink of an eye at Vadim who slid their refilled glasses to them and she showed him her best smile, "Thank you!" 

"Of course, little lady. Of course," Vadim grinned at her and returned to his other customers.

"You're a terrifying woman," The mercenary spoke in jest, occupying himself with his refill. Quinn watched the rim of the foggy glass settle on his bottom lip, dark liquid flowing passed it and draining into his waiting mouth.

_What the hell are you doing?_

Quinn blinked several times and swiveled on the stool to face the bar and away from him. It wasn't as if she hadn't ever given the guy a long once-over before, but she also hadn't ever found herself, at any time, transfixed by him. Waking up in a whole new, dangerous and mostly awful world didn't leave room for her to think of much more than keeping herself together and surviving. Attraction wasn't anywhere in her thought process.

_I don't think attraction is a process. Isn't it like.. like.. just a thing that happens? There isn't any reason I shouldn't be attracted to MacCready on some level; he's not a bad looking guy, not by a long stretch._

In the midst of starting in on her third Quantum and vodka, she nearly choked as something dawned on her.

_Oh my God. What if the whole cryo freezing thing killed my va-_

"Earth to Quinn, come in Quinn."

"Huh?" Her eyes remained a bit startled, turning her head and acknowledging MacCready, "Sorry- what?"

"You good?" He was watching her, perplexed, with furrowed brows, "I think I lost you there for a sec."

Quinn forced a laugh that came out much too loud, combing her fingers back through her curly hair, "I'm fine!"

"I'll be right back- just need some fresh air!" Without giving MacCready a chance to say anything else, she hopped off the stool and headed towards the door.

The warm night air of Diamond City was equally stifling, the humidity high from the heavy rainfall earlier in the day. Water pooled in the cracked concrete and the uneven walkways, what little grass that grew inside the old baseball stadium looked thankful for the long-awaited drink.

Quinn gave her head a shake, laughing at herself for her strange behaviour. She didn't have a thing for MacCready. That would make things extremely weird; they were attached at the hip for god's sake. Besides, even if she did, it's not like it wouldn't be somewhat warranted. He'd taken care of her from her first second in the wasteland- he protected her. 

Him being both handsome and practically dripping with that bad boy attitude had nothing to do with it. Obviously.

Or even the sheer confidence he had in himself and his abilities- looking beyond good behind the scope of his rifle.

_Whoa there, cowgirl. Settle down. It's just the drinks._

"Hi there, sweet thing."

Quinn, who'd been leaning against the wall of the Dugout Inn, pulled her attention over to the man sitting in the booth ahead of her. She smiled, as she always did, "Hey."

She regretted her tone immediately, noting that he was definitely drunk and definitely giving her _the_ eye. He grinned, unveiling a set of teeth she could only describe as scary, "What's a pretty girl like you doing around these parts?"

Trying her best to maintain a smile, she moved towards the door, "Just passing through. You know how it is. Have a good night!"

With her parting words, Quinn walked back into the inn and made a face. Yuck. From what little experience she had, men of the Commonwealth often left a bad taste in her mouth. The looks she'd get, the things men would say to her, it all made her cringe. Acting like a standard human with manners looked to have died along with the old world.

Her nails tapped against the wood of the bar while she waited for Vadim, shooting a smile over to MacCready who'd watched her walk back in. Quinn beamed at the barkeep as he approached, "Hey, Vadim, can I-"

Rudely cut off by none other than the guy from outside, he put down a handful of caps, "Two moonshine shots. One for me, one for the lady."

_Oh, great._

His brazen move stunned her and the shots were pushed towards them before she could form words, "No, thank you. I appreciate it, though."

"Come on now," Nudging the shot closer to her, he gave her a smile devoid of warmth, "I spent good caps on that."

"I said," Doing her best to keep her voice pleasant, she pushed the drink closer to him, "I'm good. Thank you. Drink up."

Quinn avoided looking up at him, pushing herself away from the bar and moving to walk passed and back to her stool. Just as she felt home free, an iron grip took hold of her left forearm, "Now, now. Don't be rude, little lady."

"Let. Go," Fighting his grip was useless; he had to have been double her size in mass.

The prick took the shot and held it towards her, his other hand gripping her arm harder. Quinn glanced over to where MacCready had been sitting, but his seat was empty.

_Great time to go to the bathroom, you ass._

She wished she weren't trembling as hard as she was, her shaking hand taking the shot the man offered. It was impossible for her to tell if the shaking was from fear or anger. Maybe it was both.

Taking the glass, she flicked her wrist and threw the clear liquid into his face. It wasn't a smart move and she knew it- unfortunately for her, acting before she thought was a bad habit. He didn't take kindly to the burning in his eyes, both his hands grabbing her shoulders hard enough to make her wince.

"Why would you go and do a thing like that?" He didn't raise his voice, instead speaking to her in a cool and controlled tone. His thumbs dug into her collar bone and she whimpered.

"If you don't take your hands off of her, you're gonna get worse than liquor to your ugly mug."

Both Quinn and the man turned their heads towards the voice, where MacCready stood with his arms crossed. She would have smiled if not for the sharp pain radiating through her upper body, her eyes pleading for help. This situation was the definition of biting off more than she could chew and seeing the mercenary made her feel much safer.

"Why don't you mind your own business, punk?" 

"See," MacCready stepped in closer, the corner of his lip twitching, "She is my fucking business. I suggest you let her go and get out of here."

"Is that right? So, what you're telling me is that.." His voice trailed and Quinn was suddenly struck across the face. As he hit her, his grip loosened and the force sent her to the floor, "You wouldn't like it if I did that?"

She hadn't even had time to process what happened before MacCready was rushing in, coming at the man at full speed. He tackled him down to the ground, wasting no time and straddling his torso. Holding him down with his weight, MacCready closed his fist and punched him repeatedly in the face.

Quinn's ears rang and stars formed in the corners of her vision, her palms flat on the floor to hold herself up. Yefim was quick to help her up, "Come on, miss."

The commotion helped ground her in reality and she yelped as the mercenary took a blow to the chin and fell backwards. Both men were back on their feet in an instant and MacCready narrowly dodged two punches, his own fist connecting with the mans stomach. He doubled over with a grunt, helpless while he was held in this position, taking knee after knee to the head.

"Mac," Quinn spoke his name much quieter than she intended, cringing as a heavily ringed closed hand crashed against MacCready's knee, causing him to drop down onto the other. He grinned up at the man, using the momentum of his enemy's arm coming in with another punch to throw him over himself- the disgusting dickhead looking like he didn't know what hit him when he hit the floor flat on his back.

MacCready wasn't done, already back to his feet and closing in on the man who'd rolled to a prone position. Quinn reached for her companion, her hand taking a hold of his forearm, "Mac, it's okay. You can stop."

He looked at her with a frighteningly predatory look, though those blue eyes were quick to soften- he was coming back down from the high of the fight, "Yeah. Alright."

Spitting blood down on his defeated opponent, MacCready growled at him, "You're _fucking_ lucky, you dumbfuck. If I had it my way you'd be dead. You _will_ be if I ever see you again."

"Let's go, let's go," Vadim motioned for the two of them to head to their room, handing them both beers from the coveted stash of cold ones, "I'll clean up the trash."

Nursing the side of her face she'd taken the open palm to, Quinn couldn't help but begin to cry once behind the closed door. MacCready ushered her to the couch and sat her down, lowering himself to sit across from her on the coffee table, "Did he hurt you bad?"

She shook her head. Her cheek barely stung at that point, but the emotional turmoil from what had transpired made her off kilter. Taking her hand, he lowered it and examined her face. Although he'd calmed down exponentially, he still looked angry as hell, "That fucking piece of shit."

Taking him by surprise, she giggled and looked up at him with bleary eyes, "The language, MacCready."

"This warrants it," His voice had softened and he sighed, "...I'm sorry I wasn't there. I came to the room to lose my duster and Yefim ran in here like a bloatfly outta hell saying I needed to get back to you- pronto."

Quinn frowned; she heard genuine distress in his apology, "It's okay. I'm fine, Mac. Just.. shocked, I guess."

MacCready didn't shake his forlorn look and Quinn smiled at him, raising her ice-cold beer and holding it against the side of his chin. He must have taken quite the hit; it was already bruising.

Briefly, he looked flustered and confused as to how to react, his face then breaking into his boyish grin- the one that reminded her that he was only twenty-two.

"Thanks for defending my honour," Quinn spoke earnestly, hoping he knew that she meant it.

Popping open their other beer, he took a long pull of it and then offered it to her, "I aim to please."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! I wasn't 100% thrilled with this chapter for some reason and I kept picking at it. 
> 
> It's getting closer to Christmas to life has gotten a bit busier! I've still got the writing bug, it's just hard to find time currently.


	8. When MacCready Met Quinn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Non-canon to There You Are. The infamous mercenary comes across a woman whose been looking for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been plotting and working on building my whole There You Are rewrite and I've been planning the next few chapters of the current version- I've just been having a hard time getting the words together for some reason! I'll get there.
> 
> I give you mindless smut, instead. ;)

Robert Joseph MacCready, tired and disgruntled, sat in the VIP room of The Third Rail with a beer in hand. The room served as his office of sorts, the place where wound-be clients could find him. As a mercenary with a reputation, jobs weren't terribly hard to find in a place like the wasteland. As long as people walked the earth, someone would want someone else dead. Bleak? Sure. But, it was the honest truth.

Besides, bleak was the name of the game. Those looking for ease, contentment and happiness were shit out of luck. The world wasn't the place for that- not anymore.

"Cheers to that," MacCready muttered to himself, flooding his mouth with a gulp of warm, bitter beer.

It had been a hard 21 years for MacCready- a life that left him not only widowed, but jaded and disenchanted. In simpler terms- he was over it.

If it weren't for Duncan, his 4 year old son, the mercenary wouldn't have much to live for. Not to say he'd contemplate taking his own life, nothing like that, just that there'd be little driving him except the caps needed to pay for his bad habits, and the game of bedding women around the Commonwealth. At least there was time for both while he continued his search for the cure his boy desperately needed. Information regarding the alleged cure didn't come cheap, which made MacCready lucky his services didn't, either. He'd work day in and out to earn the caps and gather the intel until he could get his hands on the cure and bring it to Ducnan.

Nothing mattered in the wastes. Nothing but Duncan. Only Duncan. The little boy with his father's eyes and his mother's everything else. The kid was a spitting image of his late wife, Lucy, his hair fine and blonde and his personality all sugar, spice and everything nice. MacCready wondered if he'd ever be able to look at Duncan without feeling the sharp pain that was the loss of Lucy. Would he see her death replay each time he saw his son?

"Fu-..frick," MacCready sighed heavily and tilted his head back to down the remaining half of the beer he held. He needed to numb those thoughts- pronto.

He tossed his hat onto his now empty chair, combing his calloused fingers through disheveled tawny hair. The idea of getting black-out drunk was tempting and he weighed the decision out with the fact that he had a job he planned to pick up in the morning. 

Oh, hell. He could do both.

"Whitey!" MacCready placed a handful of caps on to the bar and slid them closer to the Mister Handy, "I need a drink or five."

Scrubbing at a foggy beer glass with a disheveled dishrag, Whitechapel Charlie's attention turned to the mercenary and spoke in an accent he'd been told was British, "Are you also here to finally settle your tab?"

Chuckling, MacCready dug into a pocket of his duster and placed a cloth bag stuffed with caps next to the pile for his drinks, "Yep. 100 caps, right? Got it all right here."

As a Mister Handy, Charlie didn't have a face to display expressions- though his impatient, often sarcastic tone did the job, "Oh no, MacCready. I told you. A hundred caps covered the finders fee, but you still owed me for the disposal."

"But," He continued, losing the edge to his voice, "For old time's sake, I'll let the debt go. _But_ you owe me a favour."

Smirking, MacCready nodded in agreement, "Yeah, yeah. You're all heart, Whitechapel."

"Looking for the hard stuff, MacCready?"

Perching on to a bar-stool, he nodded again and waited for his drinks to line up in front of him. He promised himself he wouldn't shoot them back immediately, instead opting to pace himself... marginally.

MacCready was three of them in, feeling only the slightest warmth in his face when a voice to his left drew his attention.

"Excuse me," It was a soft voice, "I'm looking for someone named MacCready. Is he here somewhere?"

Blinking over to investigate, he found himself looking at a woman with red hair that hung down the length of her back. It was eye-catchingly red, something similar to a Nuka Cola machine, and the strands were curly and tousled. She had most of those wild waves pushed over to the right side of her face, concealing her from him.

Charlie used a clamp at the end of one of his robotic arms to tip his bowler hat at the girl and MacCready barely contained a snicker. She must have been a looker for the robot to turn on the charm.

"Good evening, luv," He placed the hat back on to his head, a giggle coming out from behind that thick curtain of hair, "Your man's right over there."

The mystery girl turned her head and glanced across the bar until her focus landed on MacCready. Her eyes met his and he felt struck by an unexpected wave of vertigo, the feeling hitting him like a Swatter to the head. Using everything he had to remain straight-faced, MacCready took a sip of the whiskey in his glass.

_What. A. Babe. _

"MacCready?" Her voice was honeyed, but unsure, his name coming from a pair of plump lips.

His glass hit the bar with a clink, "That's me."

Glossy chestnut eyes brightened and she closed the gap between them, "Oh, thank fuck. I've gone through hell looking for you."

The girl's voice carried humour in it, but a once-over told MacCready that she was speaking nothing but truth there. The jeans she wore, which were form fitted around the steep curve of her hips, were torn at the knees to expose what looked like relatively fresh scrapes. Her white t-shirt had streaks of dirt scattered on it, as well as blood smeared across the chest. MacCready noted how petite she was as she stood next to him- he was able to look her in the eye while seated at the bar, "Look, lady. If you're preaching about the Atom, or looking for a friend, you've got the wrong guy. If you need a hired gun... then, maybe, we can talk."

He impressed himself with how nonchalant he sounded- he _nearly_ convinced himself that he wouldn't have run across the bar to talk to her if he'd spotted her first. Her, though? She didn't look impressed with his line, at all, "Dude, does it look like I ran through the city and got my shit kicked in to make friends?"

_She's got bite. Nice._

"I guess not," MacCready felt the corner of his mouth turn up, taking one of the drinks from the bar and handing it to her, and picking up the last for himself, "Let's take this to VIP."

Returning to his chair, MacCready watched her cross the room and sit on the arm of the couch next to him. The way her hips compressed while she sat sent a rush of blood downwards and he cleared his throat, "What do you want?"

"Is this how you are with all the people looking to pay you?" She put the glass to her lips and took a taste, her eyes studying him over the rim.

"More or less," He shrugged, repeating a silent prayer that he could resist giving her a _good_ look up and down, "Until I'm actually paid."

MacCready wasn't one to hide his flirtations, or his interest in a woman, but he figured he ought to behave with a prospective client. No matter how badly he'd like to rail her. Despite what his 21 year old mind and body said, he needed caps over a good lay. Duncan over everything.

The redhead polished off her drink, leaning down and placing the glass on to the floor by her feet, "I need a bodyguard. Badly. I heard talk that you're the best gun I'll find."

"You heard right," MacCready spoke confidently, not missing a beat. He was proud of his skill as a mercenary and a marksman- known for completing his jobs with precision and without nonsense. His name was well known across both the Commonwealth and the Capital Wasteland, although he knew he stood on the side of infamy rather than awe.

Made no difference to him.

He set his empty glass on his knee, examining the girl through the eyes of a merc, "Why do you need a bodyguard? Men of the Commonwealth bothering you?"

_Can't say I blame them._

She raised a thick brow, "Frequently, but that's not what I need hired help for. That much I've got covered."

Leaning back in his chair casually, MacCready nodded; he believed it. There wasn't much about her that said she was a helpless damsel. Sure, she was good looking- damn good looking- and she was a short little thing, but there was just something about her. He believed she could take care of herself to a degree, "Who's on your tail?"

"The Institute."

If MacCready had been drinking in that moment, he'd have sprayed it back out, "The fu-fricken _Institute_?"

Those lips he wouldn't mind tasting broke into a grin and she chuckled, "Yeah, the Institute."

It was rare that anything could throw MacCready for a loop and this girl had managed to twice in fifteen minutes. The Institute wasn't something _anyone_ would want to fuck with; they were no joke. The boogeyman was real and it was them. What they were told lurked under their beds was actually underground.

The girl still looked amused, pushing off of the couch and tilting her head at him, "Why don't you come up to my suite in Rexford? I don't feel comfortable talking about this out in the open."

With a swish of her hair, she swiveled on her feet and walked away. Glancing back, she added, "I've got booze up there. I think you're gonna need it."

And then she set off without another word- as if she knew there wasn't a worry about whether or not he'd follow.

Boy, was she right.

"I hope you like vodka," She was laughing under her breath while she unlocked the door to her suite, "I found a whole case of bottles- just a couple broken."

"Honestly, I'll drink anything," MacCready shrugged, following her lead through the threshold into a room mostly identical to his. One bed, a ratty old couch, a coffee table and a dresser.

And a hairy beast.

MacCready drew his 10mm handgun from his thigh in an instant and aimed, the girl's hands quick to grab his forearm and lower it. When his brain caught up with his instincts he realized he was looking at a large dog with a red bandanna tied around its neck.

"Good to know you have excellent reflexes," She grinned at him, letting go of his arm, "But please don't kill my dog."

_You dumbass._

Trying to ignore the heat in his cheeks, MacCready slid the gun back home, "My bad."

She motioned towards the couch and busied herself with the crate of vodka she'd mentioned. MacCready made himself comfortable, watching her like a hawk with the corner of his eye. The last thing he needed was to get poisoned by a femme fatale. The fresh crack of the vodka's seal eased his mind and he felt the urge to grin while she drank a deep swig straight from the bottle. He couldn't help but think again: who the hell is this woman?

"Here," Handing off the bottle, she sat down next to him, "Drink up."

MacCready was more than happy to do as he was told, the burn of the vodka refreshing as it slid down his throat.

"Well, I'm gonna just throw everything out there," She smiled, although he could tell it wasn't the same as the one he'd seen before. There was a hint of sadness, "I'm.. pre-war. From pre-war times."

In the middle of a another drink, MacCready narrowly avoided choking. The first thought that came to him was wondering if this was a joke. His second was whether or not she was completely insane.

Snagging the vodka from him, she took a long pull, "I know what you're thinking. Am I a nutcase?"

"Yeah," He shrugged, "Sorry."

She surprised him by laughing and the sound made his heart stop. It might have been one of the most incredible things he'd ever heard. It was sweet, musical and honest. He immediately wanted to know how good she'd sound under him.

_Will you focus, asshole?_

Carding her dainty fingers through her fiery red bangs, she exhaled nervously, "I woke up in a cryo chamber- it was in Vault 111. Everyone else from the vault, they were in the same situation as me, but.. they were all.."

The confident woman he'd initially met faded and her brown eyes shone with tears, "They were all dead. All of them."

Why did he want to comfort her so badly? MacCready fought an overwhelming urge to grab her and hold her. The redhead looked as if she were ready to burst into tears- yet she surprised him by pulling herself together with a deep breath, "Look- to make a long story short- I woke up in what could possibly be called literal hell and now the Institute is on my tail because.. Honestly, I don't know exactly. They must want a test subject to poke at. I don't know.. But what I do know is that I don't want to end up wherever they want to take me."

It was a lot to take in- bordering on too much. MacCready searched her expression for every tell in the book and he couldn't see anything but truth in her eyes, her expression and her body language, "Okay. Dang, that's.."

"Please," Her voice broke up, her lips trembling, "I need help. I can't stand up to them by myself. I'm barely managing to just survive. My gun knowledge goes to the extent of- point and shoot. I don't know how I got this far, but I can't.. I don't think I can go much further."

"I'll take the job."

The girl's eyes lit up and she set the vodka down on to the coffee table, "Really? Really-really?"

MacCready was thinking exactly what she was vocalizing- shocking even himself. This was over his head and above his pay grade. How could he guard this girl from the likes of the Institute? He was good, though he had to wonder if he was _that_ good. He hadn't bothered to ask about stipulations, expectations or pay and he was inwardly groaning.

_There's just... something about her._

"I.. uh- yeah," MacCready nodded, clearing his throat, "Really-really."

He was putting himself together to ask about those important details when she all but threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and hugging him tightly, "Thank you so much!"

Exhaling, MacCready returned the combat knife clutched in his hand back to his boot. It was instinct to pull it out when she closed the space between them as quickly as she did and he hoped she hadn't noticed. She was hot, but he wasn't going to let his guard down _that_ much. He had no idea what to do with the sudden affection, his arms hesitating before returning the embrace.

"Uh, I-.. there's the whole cost of my services," With her as close as she was, he was overcome with the smell of her hair. He wasn't sure how else he could describe it other than warm and spicy, "And going over, you know, um. Expectations and all... that."

"Oh, yeah!" She pulled away from their embrace, returning to her seat on the coffee table, "Of course. Sorry, got a little carried away there. It's just been.. difficult this last while."

MacCready waved a hand nonchalantly, wondering if he looked as flustered as he felt, "Hey, it's fine. My, uh, standard fee is 250 caps and ammo, food and any hotel stays are on the client."

Her expression fell and he cursed at himself inwardly; this girl probably didn't have much in the way of caps. Already hating himself for what he was about to say, he sighed, "I can maybe take it down to 200 because you're in a jam."

"What?" Coiling strands of her hair around her index finger, she continued to frown, "You're willing to risk your life for 200 caps? That's crazy."

_Crazy?_

"I'm probably one of the more expensive hired guns, actually," MacCready knew he sounded offended, although he wasn't sure if he was supposed to.

"Nuh uh," She shook her head, "No way. I'll give you 400 up front."

If his jaw could have physically touched the floor, it would have. He was too astounded to speak and she continued, "I'll take care of ammo, food and lodging- like you said. You can take half the caps we find around this whole hellhole and when all is said and done, there's another 400 in store."

_Am I dreaming?_

"I don't know how things really work around here. Just enough to get by, honestly. But there's just no damn way I can ask you to risk your life for me for 200 caps. I know they're not exactly the easiest to come by, but I manage."

Tossing his hat on to the table next to her, he fluffed his hair and pushed it back, "And how's that?"

"I've got some blind luck: I'm pretty good at digging up caps. Besides, I'm great at sweet talking my way into low buying and high selling," She said this with a coy smile, "I'm not too worried."

"You just hired yourself an extra gun," Extending his hand to her, she giggled and took it. He had to resist the urge to inspect her hand further; it was soft unlike any other he'd touched. Pre-war life must have been cushy. They shook hands and then came the moment she nearly killed him.

Tucking her hair back behind her ear with her free hand, she looked at him with dark brown eyes. Her full lips parted and he felt his heart skip a beat. Maybe even two; she had the most show-stopping smile he'd ever seen. It was all perfect teeth and heart.

_Holy. Fuck._

His thoughts spiraled into all kinds of filth, the blood he needed to be a reasonable man heading downwards to his _other_ head. The rest of her- would it all be as soft as her hands? How would they feel around his cock? Was she the kind of lover who'd smile and laugh as she came, sinking into her ecstasy?

_I wonder what she sounds like when she's cumming? Probably like a fucking angel._

MacCready was about to do something stupid. Something irrational and ill-planned and, at this point, likely unstoppable. Sure, he was a young man and enjoyed little more than fucking, but he was a professional. 

_Right?_

Grasping her hand harder, he tugged the redhead in. As she fell against him in surprise, he lost his other hand into the thick hair at the side of her head and crashed his lips into hers. Her chest pressed to his and she organized her feet under her- gravity making it so all she could do without completely falling was to straddle him. She pulled back with a shaking inhale. Something akin to a gasp.

_You really fucked the dog now, dumbass. What were you thinking? Fuck. Shit. Fuckfuck._

The string of obscenities would have continued if not for her mouth finding his again, her hands grasping on to his shoulders. Knowing he could sit down and comb through just how much this probably shouldn't be happening later, he slid his hand into the back pocket of her jeans and gave her ass a hearty squeeze. The way she smiled against his lips, giggling and squirming, made the fire he felt rise. He needed more of her.

MacCready pushed away from the couch with his back, managing to get to a stand. Wrapping her legs around his waist, he looked up at her, "Mind if we take this over..?"

She replied with a shake of her head, kissing him again and nipping at his bottom lip. Her damaged, bloody t-shirt hit the floor just before he lowered her to the mattress across the room. 

_I could worship that fucking rack all day and all damn night._

Her legs came loose from around him and she watched him through her long lashes while he rid himself of his scarf, his shirt and his duster. Shimmying back with the help of her elbows, she rested her head on the pillow and gave her hips a little shake, "Do you mind?"

Chuckling, the mercenary climbed on after her and started working on her jeans. Her belt would up somewhere near their growing pile of clothes and he smirked down at her as he tore open the button and the zipper in a single motion. She gasped, that lovely mouth falling open in surprise. 

_I'm so glad my no cursing rule doesn't count in my head because... fuck. This girl. God, I gotta have her._

He flipped her over on to her stomach, pulling her ass up by the loops of her jeans. The redhead rested on her forearms and looked back at him over her shoulder- and though he couldn't see her lips, he knew she was smirking at him. As he pulled her pants and underwear down to her knees, he groaned, "Damn, angel..."

What was in the water prewar? This girl didn't have a body he'd seen before- at least not in real life. The closest thing he could think of was some pin-up babe from an old magazine. Her waist to hip ratio was leading him to dangerous blood pressure levels, the softness of her full thighs threatening to just plain end him.

"Are you even real?" He blurted out what he'd meant to say in his head and, luckily, her response was a laugh.

"I think so," She tilted back and bumped her ass against his _painfully_ hard dick, "See for yourself?"

_You don't have to tell me twice, that's for fucking sure._

MacCready made short work of his pants, finally freeing himself and guiding the tip of his manhood down along her wet slit. He heard her let out a shaking breath as she watched him intently- the lust in her eyes matching his own. Positioning his hands on to her generous hips, he sunk into her in a single stroke. They moaned together, hers growing in pitch as he filled the welcome space between her thighs.

_So tight.._

Digging his digits into the meat of her hips, he started a desperately and powerful pace and basked in how overwhelmed he felt. The smell of her hair and her dripping sex. The sounds of their hips meeting and her sharp whimpers and whines. How his hands felt kneading her voluptuous ass and his cock held like a vice between her legs.

"Oh! Fuck..! Fuckfuck.." She clutched at the sheets until her knuckles were white, her sounds of pleasure slowly making their way to unintelligible as he fucked her like his life depended on it. If they couldn't manage a way to continue their planned partnership, it was already much too late to fix that burned bridge and he might as well give her the best lay of her life.

MacCready leaned over her, running his tongue along her shoulder blade and reaching under her to find her sensitive little friend down below. Rubbing his fingers into her drenched folds, he smirked and used the abundant lubrication to toy with her clit. The beauty under him reacted immediately, tilting her head back and crying out towards the headboard. He took her earlobe between his teeth, growling deep within his throat.

Her eyes were clenched shut, her moans and her words falling from her lips, "Mac..! MacCready, I'm! Oh, god.. yes, yes.. I'm gonna cum! I'm gonna c-"

The entirety of her body tensed briefly and her sentence rose sharply before coming back down as a series of cries. MacCready couldn't help but grin; watching her fall asunder and lose herself to her climax was something for the books. God bless his discipline because it took every ounce of it to keep himself from joining her, her shuddering pussy the best damn thing he'd felt in years.

"Give me one more, angel," He unhooked her bra and tucked his hands under the lacy material, massaging her heaving breasts and rolling her nipples between the lengths of his fingers, "C'mere."

Raising her up, he held her to his chest and continued to thrust into her, her head falling back to rest on his shoulder. Her eyes were open and she looked up at him, the slightest smile curling her lips as she rode along the waves of her fading orgasm, her tongue poking out and rolling over her lower lip, "Uh huh.., Mac.. God, you feel.. uhn.. _uhnn_."

He put one of her shaking hands between her legs before returning to her tanned, full bust. If he were granted the time to, he could fondle them forever. They were creamy and a perfect fit for his hands.

MacCready could hear that her hand was doing a damn fine job; her breathing was picking up again- rapid and erratic. He demanded to occupy every inch inside of her with furious movements and he bit into her shoulder to relieve tension and halt his inevitable finish.

Resting her back on her forearms, his teeth sunk in more and she screamed out- the sound a heavenly mix of pleasure and pain. The girl's second orgasm shot up along her spine and through her limbs and she started to tremble and tighten, further declarations of how good she was feeling probably waking up the entire floor of the Rex.

_Good._

Just as she came, he closed his eyes and willed himself to pull out from her and cross the threshold into his own peak, "Ughnnn.. _fuuuuck_..!"

Holding his slick cock, he urgently pumped himself until he spread threads of his seed against her lower back, "_Shit._"

Once their heads were clear enough, they both shifted around to right their underwear and their pants, small smiles on both their faces. Clipping her bra closed again, the girl looked at him and chuckled, "Well, uh.. We're acquainted now."

Sitting back on his ass with his legs out, MacCready snorted, "You got that right,... uh."

_I didn't get her name. I didn't get her fucking name. I took the world's most dangerous goddamn job without knowing her name. I fucked the ever-living-shit out of her without knowing her name. What the fuck is wrong with me? She's gonna think I'm the world's biggest-_

"Quinn," Her voice poked a hole through his thoughts, "My name's Quinn."

_Quinn._

All he could do was laugh and nod, "Nice to meet you, Quinn."

"Likewise," Quinn was reorganizing her hair with more of those damn adorable giggles, "So. Is there a rule on banging your clients?"

"Not sure. This was a first," He scratched the back of his head, feeling uncharacteristically bashful.

"I mean..you're highly recommended and you're _also_ a good lay, soooo.."

_I'm turning red, aren't I? Oh, God. She's trouble._

MacCready turned on his charm in an attempt to hide whatever the hell was happening to him and shrugged, "Then consider this official, boss."

_It's good caps. No. It's great caps. And she's hot. And I'm the best out there. It's fine. This is fine. Keep feelings out of it and you'll be solid gold._

Quinn's cheeks turned pink and she laughed, "Oooo, boss? I like it."

They looked at one another for a long moment and then Quinn started to climb off of the bed, "I guess I should get you your ca-"

"Wait," Without thinking, he laid her back down and climbed on top of her, "You know.. I, uh.. Goodneighbour is a well armed town and I'd say this room is secure. I think we could stay here awhile?"

_It can just all be work. Bodyguard duty. Easy. Let off some steam? Sure, why not. Stress wouldn't be good for her, anyways. It's absolutely just work. Not like I've fallen for a lay, yet. So it'll be easy-peasy._

MacCready was on Quinn again in an instant, pressing her into the mattress and kissing her with vigor. He could face his own bold-faced lies to himself another day. Laughing together, they hurried to remove the rest of their clothing.


End file.
